Prologue
MY HANDS SHOOK as I stared at the blood on them, it wasn’t fresh which meant that the blood had been on them for quite some time and my knuckles were busted and callous, I let out a breath through my nose as I try to stop making myself from freaking out and end up getting myself some unwanted attention
I had got into yet another fight
People really need to listen when I tell them to back off but they never do and then they get angry when I do something I told them I was going to do in the first place and then I get in trouble and I’m not saying I shouldn’t I know I need to control my temper but it was hard for me because I often got into
I stare at the water as it swirls down the drain, rubbing my hands together as I attempted to scrub off the rest of the blood from my knuckles and for a minute I find myself looking at my reflection in the mirror and end up catching the sight of my dishevelled and unkempt hair and bloodshot eyes
Running a wet hand over my face, I try to wake myself up but nothing seems to work and in anger, I smash my hand into the sink breaking off parts of the fragile porcelain sink and I swiftly curse before examining my hand that was once again bleeding, but this time the pain didn’t hurt that much, in fact, it felt good to feel pain -- I had gotten so used to feeling numb nowadays, it was good to feel something even if it was pain.
I hesitantly pick up a razor my blood-stained hands shaking and my heart beating so fast, it felt like it was going to just into my throat and as the razor got closer to my wet skin my hands started to shake less and less until I was actually able to hold the razor close to my wrist without it shaking everywhere and I quickly made an incision on my wrist, no longer feeling the panic I did just a few minutes ago
It was a good start, but I needed to feel something more. I needed more pain
I made a deeper incision of my wrist, more blood making its way down my hand and towards my fingers before dropping off of them and onto the white tiled floor and I cursed but wasn’t really bothered about it right now as a grin crossed my features, I could finally feel something that wasn’t anger at something and that set off something in my chest and I wanted more
I needed more
With another heavy breath, I move the razor up my arm to the veins connecting my wrist and started to cut deep into them and like I was a drug addict I was addicted to the pain I was in and again I needed to feel pain
Hissing in pain I make sure the razor cuts more deeply and made sure that it actually drew more blood and then black spots covered my vision and I tried to blink them away and that’s when I realised my mistake, I had cut too deeply and had probably burst a vein. I tried to shout out for help but was quickly feeling lightheaded and the next thing I know I fell to the ground hitting my head on the busted sink and making me fall unconscious
* * * * *
Groggy and feeling like my head had been hit by a truck, I slightly open my eyes to see a bright light shining in my eyes and I quickly shut my eyes again, much preferring to be in the dark at this moment in time
“Hello?” An unfamiliar voice floated to my ears but it sounded like far away and I couldn’t focus. properly on where the voice came from and I tried to open my eyes again but I can’t “Are you alright? Elliot Walker, can you hear me?”
“W-Where am I?” I spluttered out, my voice shaky and hoarse
“You’re in the hospital sweetie you had an accident remember you hit your head after cutting way too deep into your veins bursting one of you’re arteries and then because of the blood loss you ended up fainting and hit your head on the base of the sink” The voice answered and I finally got enough energy to crack open an eyelid.
“What do you mean?” I ask noticing now that I was hooked up to an I.V and my wrists and hands were wrapped in bandages and my parents and sister were weeping in their arms, fawning over me and that’s when I realised that cops were standing outside of the door and panic flooded through my body “Why are the cops here?”
“You tried to commit suicide,” My mother tells me, teary-eyed and shaky voice and it’s gut-wrenching to see her in this state making my stomach twist and turn “It’s hospital policy that they call the police, and they’re going to ask you questions before sending you to a mental hospital so that you can get better and heal and then when you can come back home and live your life again”
“Y-Your sending me away” I stutter lamely my head spinning in anger, how could they send me away? Why would they send me away? I haven’t done anything wrong, I just wanted to feel something, even if it was pain “Y-You think I-I’m crazy, don’t you?”
“No sweetheart, we don’t think you’re crazy but you’re hurting and we see now that you’re angry and the fact that you kept getting into fights was just a cry for help do need and that’s what we’re trying to do sweetheart by sending you away to this place to get healed because you’re obviously hurting a lot and who could blame you with everything that happened this past year” Mom explains softly and I clench my fist in anger
Guess I’m going to a mental hospital until I get healed -- apparently.
